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It had taken longer than it should have for him to realize where they were going and by that point it was already too late to actually say something. He had too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it in so rather than confront the leader of their little party the tall redhead kept his mouth shut and continued on. His suspicions were confirmed when their magic was dropped, his own included, and her identity was pretty much shoved in his face. It explained so much. The lack of time, the damn infirmary she built in her house, even some of the scars he had seen.
None of that really mattered right away anyway since he went right to work. Once everyone had been treated to the best of his abilities, that's when he focused on the one little detail his girlfriend had kept from him. In all fairness he had done the same and truthfully it was the best course of action for any of them. Keep it secret because you never really know, or want to know, who you invited into your bed. Mentally shaking his head to free it of such disturbing thoughts Pat made his way to the kitchen.
He knew the house, he knew the kitchen, he knew what was in every cabinet and drawer… well most of them. He knew that there would be questions to ask and answers to give. But for now all he wanted was a cup of coffee. Something strong enough to strip paint and as black as the night. The redhead had a feeling it would be needed. Once it was done Pat gently cradled the cup in his hands, absently staring out into the night as he inhaled the scent of the brew. First the coffee, then to find Fiona. They needed to talk.
None of that really mattered right away anyway since he went right to work. Once everyone had been treated to the best of his abilities, that's when he focused on the one little detail his girlfriend had kept from him. In all fairness he had done the same and truthfully it was the best course of action for any of them. Keep it secret because you never really know, or want to know, who you invited into your bed. Mentally shaking his head to free it of such disturbing thoughts Pat made his way to the kitchen.
He knew the house, he knew the kitchen, he knew what was in every cabinet and drawer… well most of them. He knew that there would be questions to ask and answers to give. But for now all he wanted was a cup of coffee. Something strong enough to strip paint and as black as the night. The redhead had a feeling it would be needed. Once it was done Pat gently cradled the cup in his hands, absently staring out into the night as he inhaled the scent of the brew. First the coffee, then to find Fiona. They needed to talk.
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Seeing Pat among the survivors and wounded had been concerning, but not something she had been able to process until the house had emptied and those that were staying the night had been put to bed. Fiona had disappeared into her room at some point, changing into something more comfortable for sleeping that allowed her to hide the bandages wrapped across her middle from where Labyrinthite’s blade had sliced her.
All in all, she had fared better that man and worse than others, but she could stand and that was all that mattered.
Tristan had volunteered to watch over the wounded for the first shift, because he had managed to sustain little damage himself, even if he seemed hesitant to part from Lilith or the companion he had been attached to when she had found him. It was for the best, she had matters to attend to.
Fiona found Pat in the kitchen and propped herself up against the fridge as she watched him make his coffee. “So, I guess we need to talk, huh?” She asked, deciding there was no point in skirting around the truth of the matter.
All in all, she had fared better that man and worse than others, but she could stand and that was all that mattered.
Tristan had volunteered to watch over the wounded for the first shift, because he had managed to sustain little damage himself, even if he seemed hesitant to part from Lilith or the companion he had been attached to when she had found him. It was for the best, she had matters to attend to.
Fiona found Pat in the kitchen and propped herself up against the fridge as she watched him make his coffee. “So, I guess we need to talk, huh?” She asked, deciding there was no point in skirting around the truth of the matter.
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Pat didn’t talk at first, he just stood there and stared into the darkness. Sarcasm wasn’t the answer here, no matter what part of him wanted. Recriminations weren’t either. Nor was just about every ‘normal’ feeling including fear for her safety. Even so much as hinting at keeping her protected would end up with one or both of them hurt at least mentally if not physically… likely him if things got physical. Not that either of them were in shape to throw s**t or worse and Fiona likely wouldn’t want to damage her house so the only objects that would be tossed around would be words and Pat was determined not to piss his girlfriend off. At least he would try to. It was a hell of a lot to take in.
“The first time I saw my whistle I was at work. I was cooking for the guys, I had pulled the short straw that night, and this thing just showed up. When I tried to point it out to others it was gone. I thought they were ******** with me, they thought I was messing with them. But it kept showing up in more and more unlikely places like a brand new cereal box… the ‘surprise’ in the box as it were. In the shower. On a camping trip. I thought I was going crazy. Like, legitimately crazy. Tumor in my brain crazy. Then, one night, I stumbled across this girl in a strange outfit who was seriously injured. While I was trying to help stop the bleeding the whistle showed up again and she saw it. She told me to grab it and that's how I found out I wasn’t crazy.” He took a swallow of his now tepid coffee and grimaced before turning around to face her and placing the nearly full cup on the counter.
“It came with the realization that the crazy and insane things some of the people we patched up were real. That the news was flat out lying to us. And Shakespeare was a ******** prophet; 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'” Christ! How did one tell another that they didn’t want them fighting when they themselves had no intention of stopping? How could you ask for something that you yourself wouldn’t do? Pat couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be one of those assholes who preached ‘do as I say and not as I do’. He wouldn’t.
“So basically, yeah. We need to talk. If only to understand about how all this will work now.” He gestured to the space between them as well as the entire house. How would they handle dating knowing that one or both of them were risking their lives at any given time? Patrolling together? Appart? How did this even work now? Did anything really change except now they didn’t need to lie to each other about what they did at night? Or how they ended up with all the scrapes and bruises?
Where to begin? The redhead absently ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I guess the best place to start is at introductions.” With a rather self deprecating smile he did just that. “Hi. I’m Tortuga. Lowly page of Jupiter.”
“The first time I saw my whistle I was at work. I was cooking for the guys, I had pulled the short straw that night, and this thing just showed up. When I tried to point it out to others it was gone. I thought they were ******** with me, they thought I was messing with them. But it kept showing up in more and more unlikely places like a brand new cereal box… the ‘surprise’ in the box as it were. In the shower. On a camping trip. I thought I was going crazy. Like, legitimately crazy. Tumor in my brain crazy. Then, one night, I stumbled across this girl in a strange outfit who was seriously injured. While I was trying to help stop the bleeding the whistle showed up again and she saw it. She told me to grab it and that's how I found out I wasn’t crazy.” He took a swallow of his now tepid coffee and grimaced before turning around to face her and placing the nearly full cup on the counter.
“It came with the realization that the crazy and insane things some of the people we patched up were real. That the news was flat out lying to us. And Shakespeare was a ******** prophet; 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'” Christ! How did one tell another that they didn’t want them fighting when they themselves had no intention of stopping? How could you ask for something that you yourself wouldn’t do? Pat couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be one of those assholes who preached ‘do as I say and not as I do’. He wouldn’t.
“So basically, yeah. We need to talk. If only to understand about how all this will work now.” He gestured to the space between them as well as the entire house. How would they handle dating knowing that one or both of them were risking their lives at any given time? Patrolling together? Appart? How did this even work now? Did anything really change except now they didn’t need to lie to each other about what they did at night? Or how they ended up with all the scrapes and bruises?
Where to begin? The redhead absently ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I guess the best place to start is at introductions.” With a rather self deprecating smile he did just that. “Hi. I’m Tortuga. Lowly page of Jupiter.”
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Fiona had never had to deal with this before, outside of the incident with Kam, she had always known powered first, civilian second. She had thought that Pat was normal up until she saw him among the previously powered in her living room. There hadn’t been time to talk about it, to think about it even, until now and she wasn’t sure she wanted to have the conversation at all.
So, when he talked she stayed quiet and listened.
She had never heard of anyone regaling their experience as a newly awakened knight. She had thought to ask Fritz at one point, because he was the only knight she knew that started as one besides Kam and she didn’t know if she would have been able to handle Kam’s awakening with all of their history.
It was fascinating.
Slowly she pushed off the fridge and cross the space over to him. Gently, she coaxed his hands into hers and offered him a tired smile. “Pat,” his name fell off her tongue in a quiet whisper. “There’s nothing lowly about you.”
Fiona wondered what it was about the people in her life that seemed to be so hard on themselves. Her list was never ending, growing longer and longer as she made more connections. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I’m Super Sailor Denebola.” She paused, lips pursing together as mismatched eyes watched his face. “I’ve been doing this for around seven years now and - “ her voice wavered, deciding it was best to get it out and the open already. “I need you to understand that I won’t be stopping. I understand that you’re going to be concerned about me and my safety, but this is part of who I am and you either accept that, or...that’s it.”
So, when he talked she stayed quiet and listened.
She had never heard of anyone regaling their experience as a newly awakened knight. She had thought to ask Fritz at one point, because he was the only knight she knew that started as one besides Kam and she didn’t know if she would have been able to handle Kam’s awakening with all of their history.
It was fascinating.
Slowly she pushed off the fridge and cross the space over to him. Gently, she coaxed his hands into hers and offered him a tired smile. “Pat,” his name fell off her tongue in a quiet whisper. “There’s nothing lowly about you.”
Fiona wondered what it was about the people in her life that seemed to be so hard on themselves. Her list was never ending, growing longer and longer as she made more connections. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I’m Super Sailor Denebola.” She paused, lips pursing together as mismatched eyes watched his face. “I’ve been doing this for around seven years now and - “ her voice wavered, deciding it was best to get it out and the open already. “I need you to understand that I won’t be stopping. I understand that you’re going to be concerned about me and my safety, but this is part of who I am and you either accept that, or...that’s it.”
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Pat returned Fiona’s smile with his own weak one, his hands gripping hers. He wasn’t much of a fighter. He could do it, at least bar brawl and he was training with his family, but if anything proved justs how ‘lowly’ he was the events from earlier in the night did it quite clearly. He needed to get better at this knight thing but his first reaction was always to go help those hurt. He always seemed to be running into stupidly dangerous situations not really caring about himself. So yeah, lowly page is what he was. At least for now. He would get better. He would have too.
Where her voice wavered his was steady, sad but steady. “I know. I can’t stop you and I can’t even ask that of you. At seven years to my one you technically are more equipped for this madness we’ve found ourselves in.” His lips tugged up at the corners slightly, genuine mirth shining through for a moment. If their band of misfits were a true military-esque outfit then she could be the one to pull rank and tell him to stop this nonsense of being a knight. To focus on being an EMT and leave fighting to her and the other butt bowed crusaders. “Besides. If I did say such an uncouth thing my mother would come back from the grave to slap me silly.” She would have to get in line behind his cousins, coworkers, and even neighbors. Only his cousins would understand but still, the mental observation was true.
“I can’t be happy about it. Who would?” He had slipped one hand free to brush lightly against where the bandage was. It was hard not to remember how he had held his own makeshift bandage there. The green bandana stained red. “But I can’t stop you.” That same free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb lightly teasing her bottom lip. His eyes locked on hers, worry and concern pretty clear in their amethyst depths. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. I don’t like knowing you're out there without backup and getting cut up. But I can’t very well put you in a bubble. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Especially since I don’t plan on stopping either. I’ve still got a long way to go but there are just too many people who need the help. The basic, emergency, first aid, or at least the distraction, that I can provide. So where does that leave us?” Could they live with knowing that the other was out risking their lives night after night? Was this how the spouses of police and military felt?
Where her voice wavered his was steady, sad but steady. “I know. I can’t stop you and I can’t even ask that of you. At seven years to my one you technically are more equipped for this madness we’ve found ourselves in.” His lips tugged up at the corners slightly, genuine mirth shining through for a moment. If their band of misfits were a true military-esque outfit then she could be the one to pull rank and tell him to stop this nonsense of being a knight. To focus on being an EMT and leave fighting to her and the other butt bowed crusaders. “Besides. If I did say such an uncouth thing my mother would come back from the grave to slap me silly.” She would have to get in line behind his cousins, coworkers, and even neighbors. Only his cousins would understand but still, the mental observation was true.
“I can’t be happy about it. Who would?” He had slipped one hand free to brush lightly against where the bandage was. It was hard not to remember how he had held his own makeshift bandage there. The green bandana stained red. “But I can’t stop you.” That same free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb lightly teasing her bottom lip. His eyes locked on hers, worry and concern pretty clear in their amethyst depths. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. I don’t like knowing you're out there without backup and getting cut up. But I can’t very well put you in a bubble. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Especially since I don’t plan on stopping either. I’ve still got a long way to go but there are just too many people who need the help. The basic, emergency, first aid, or at least the distraction, that I can provide. So where does that leave us?” Could they live with knowing that the other was out risking their lives night after night? Was this how the spouses of police and military felt?
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Fiona didn’t like to think too much about the fact that she was thrust into this chaotic warfare when she was virtually a child. Someone who barely left high school and was stumbling to figure out how to stand on her own two feet with the safety net that was her parents always behind her.
She remembered what it was like, too strongly, to be so young and idealistic. She thought that she could make a difference and change the world. She knew better now, but she was still an idealist. Fiona kept hoping for a better future because otherwise she’d have to admit that it was all for naught and she couldn’t.
There were people who counted on her and she refused to let them down.
“You couldn’t stick me in a bubble if you tried Pat,” she said quietly. Every one of his touches was gentle but it was Pat and she didn’t expect anything but. For a long moment she was silent, the heavy question floating in the air between them before she found the breath to exhale. “I’m not gonna turn my back on people that need me Pat.”
She had tried that once and hated herself for it.
Never again.
“So, it comes down to what you want. Because if you’re expecting me to stop or to change how I do things then...I’m sorry. That’ll be the end of this. This is who I am and I’m not going to change that for anyone.”
She remembered what it was like, too strongly, to be so young and idealistic. She thought that she could make a difference and change the world. She knew better now, but she was still an idealist. Fiona kept hoping for a better future because otherwise she’d have to admit that it was all for naught and she couldn’t.
There were people who counted on her and she refused to let them down.
“You couldn’t stick me in a bubble if you tried Pat,” she said quietly. Every one of his touches was gentle but it was Pat and she didn’t expect anything but. For a long moment she was silent, the heavy question floating in the air between them before she found the breath to exhale. “I’m not gonna turn my back on people that need me Pat.”
She had tried that once and hated herself for it.
Never again.
“So, it comes down to what you want. Because if you’re expecting me to stop or to change how I do things then...I’m sorry. That’ll be the end of this. This is who I am and I’m not going to change that for anyone.”
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He never let her go even as she practically threw down the gauntlet, his one hand had just shifted from her cheek to her shoulder, his fingers resting against her neck, teasing the hair at the nape of her head. It was like he couldn’t stop touching her, proving to himself via touch that she was okay. She was real and standing in front of him. What he wanted? It all came down to what he wanted? What Pat wanted was an end to this stupid ‘war’. What he wanted was for people to stop being dicks to each other. He wanted to win the lottery and just pull a serious daddy warbucks, the end of the play not the beginning, and just spread the wealth around. He wanted people to stop getting hurt, either from magical means or from mental traumas. But above all what he wanted was Fiona to be happy. She was who she was and he couldn’t change her, he wouldn’t. It hurt to admit it but life without pain meant that the good things weren’t as special.
With a sigh Pat let her hand go and laced his fingers together so they were cradling the back of her head, his thumbs resting against her neck. He could feel her pulse beating strongly, his own faintly echoing hers. “I don’t really know about you, but I happen to like the way you are. Strong, smart, take charge, and apparently able to kick my a** back to the dark ages.” His smile was more rueful then anything but it was better than nothing. “Fiona Watson, Super Sailor Denebola, I won’t make any promises. I won’t smile and say that I’m ok with this because it’s not in my nature to let people I care about get hurt.” He almost used a different word then ‘care’ but the other four letter word was verboden. Until he knew beyond all reason that the woman he used that word with would be his wife, would be the center of his very world, would be his for eternity and beyond, Pat wouldn’t use it. “But I won’t turn away from you, from this, or from us. I want to try. I’m willing to try. How about you? Are you willing to put up with me with my worry and my concern and miserable fighting skills?” The ball was back in her court. Pat was willing to try to accept her for who and what she was. Could she do the same?
With a sigh Pat let her hand go and laced his fingers together so they were cradling the back of her head, his thumbs resting against her neck. He could feel her pulse beating strongly, his own faintly echoing hers. “I don’t really know about you, but I happen to like the way you are. Strong, smart, take charge, and apparently able to kick my a** back to the dark ages.” His smile was more rueful then anything but it was better than nothing. “Fiona Watson, Super Sailor Denebola, I won’t make any promises. I won’t smile and say that I’m ok with this because it’s not in my nature to let people I care about get hurt.” He almost used a different word then ‘care’ but the other four letter word was verboden. Until he knew beyond all reason that the woman he used that word with would be his wife, would be the center of his very world, would be his for eternity and beyond, Pat wouldn’t use it. “But I won’t turn away from you, from this, or from us. I want to try. I’m willing to try. How about you? Are you willing to put up with me with my worry and my concern and miserable fighting skills?” The ball was back in her court. Pat was willing to try to accept her for who and what she was. Could she do the same?
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Pat’s touches were meant to be grounding Fiona was sure but for some reason they made her feel a bit unattached as she waited for him to process everything she said. The woman thought that she ought to be more concerned or even panicked about what this conversation could mean for her, for them, but she wasn’t. Instead, in the face of something that might have scared or worried her before, she was incredibly calm.
Perhaps it was an aftereffect of having to be calm and collected in the midst of chaos when everyone else needed someone to look to.
Leadership wasn’t something Fiona ever thought she would seek out but maybe, maybe it was something she was destined to have. Why else would she be surrounded by so many that needed someone to look to for guidance?
But Pat was speaking and Fiona stopped thinking about anything but what he was saying. Slowly a soft smile spread across her lips and she cupped his face with both of her hands. “We’re children of war now Pat, things aren’t ever going to be easy but it won’t be so difficult if we band together.” She drew his mouth to hers and kissed him sweetly.
“If you think that you’re capable of handling this part of me and what it means, then yeah, I’m not going anywhere.” It was easy for her to decide because she liked Pat and he wanted to try and maybe that was all that mattered in the end.
Plus, this meant that there didn’t need to be any secrets about where she was going or what she was doing or where the bruises might come from. That was nice in itself.
“Come on,” she encouraged, gently taking his hands in hers and starting to walk backward towards her bedroom. “Let’s go to bed and then we can start facing all of this tomorrow, together.”
Perhaps it was an aftereffect of having to be calm and collected in the midst of chaos when everyone else needed someone to look to.
Leadership wasn’t something Fiona ever thought she would seek out but maybe, maybe it was something she was destined to have. Why else would she be surrounded by so many that needed someone to look to for guidance?
But Pat was speaking and Fiona stopped thinking about anything but what he was saying. Slowly a soft smile spread across her lips and she cupped his face with both of her hands. “We’re children of war now Pat, things aren’t ever going to be easy but it won’t be so difficult if we band together.” She drew his mouth to hers and kissed him sweetly.
“If you think that you’re capable of handling this part of me and what it means, then yeah, I’m not going anywhere.” It was easy for her to decide because she liked Pat and he wanted to try and maybe that was all that mattered in the end.
Plus, this meant that there didn’t need to be any secrets about where she was going or what she was doing or where the bruises might come from. That was nice in itself.
“Come on,” she encouraged, gently taking his hands in hers and starting to walk backward towards her bedroom. “Let’s go to bed and then we can start facing all of this tomorrow, together.”
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Pat gladly returned her kiss, happy that she was willing to try as well. It wouldn’t be easy, Fiona was right about that, but nothing in life worth having was easy. When she finally pulled back and informed him that she wasn’t going anywhere he couldn’t keep the broad smile from his face, nor could he help asking, “So does that make us the Lost Boys and you Peter? Would I be Tinkerbell then? I really don't want to be Wendy. I don't think I could pull off that blue night dress do you?” His teasing was gentle and mostly aimed towards himself. He liked seeing her smile so a joke at his own expense was worth it. Besides it was a valid question, kinda. If she was to be the leader of their little ragtag band, he sure as s**t didn’t want to be anywhere near that spot of responsibility, it would make her Peter Pan… Pat was more like one of the Indians, or maybe a mermaid. Definitely not a Pirate. At best he was the Skunk lost boy, the smallest one. The smartest, but the smallest. At least from what Pat remembered from the movies he was the smartest outside of the oldest Darling boy, the name was escaping Pat at the moment.
Any further thoughts of the perpetual child that was Peter, or any other Disney related movie or character, quickly evaporated when Fiona took his hands in hers and tugged him out of the kitchen. If he wasn’t sore, tired, and a little heart sore over all the other people injured in her house right now, the direction she was tugging him towards would have a totally different reaction. As it was he nodded and added, “Cuddling only though. No funny business tonight.” Her bandage wouldn’t hold up to any ‘funny business’ and after the nightmare of the funky chicken then finding out his girlfriend was a butt bowed warrior any sexy time thoughts, while still there, were pretty dim. Right now all he wanted was to sleep with Fiona in his arms and hope the bright light of day made their path a bit more clearer because it wouldn’t be easy and any assistance they could get sure wouldn’t hurt.
Any further thoughts of the perpetual child that was Peter, or any other Disney related movie or character, quickly evaporated when Fiona took his hands in hers and tugged him out of the kitchen. If he wasn’t sore, tired, and a little heart sore over all the other people injured in her house right now, the direction she was tugging him towards would have a totally different reaction. As it was he nodded and added, “Cuddling only though. No funny business tonight.” Her bandage wouldn’t hold up to any ‘funny business’ and after the nightmare of the funky chicken then finding out his girlfriend was a butt bowed warrior any sexy time thoughts, while still there, were pretty dim. Right now all he wanted was to sleep with Fiona in his arms and hope the bright light of day made their path a bit more clearer because it wouldn’t be easy and any assistance they could get sure wouldn’t hurt.
